


One Small Wish

by stars28



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12137793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: Ever since the capture of himself and the King for a slave ship, d’Artagnan had been having some…disturbing thoughts concerning the King.





	One Small Wish

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom. I recently re-watched all three series in the space of a week and this, of course, is the result.
> 
> (Set after Series 2, Episode 2: An Ordinary Man.)

_“But I made a wish on a lonesome star_  
 _Star oh star you shine so bright_  
 _Won’t you grant me one small wish tonight_  
 _That I won’t die on this destructive path of mine…”_  
**\- I Love You More Than You Will Ever Know, Never Shout Never.**

Ever since the capture of himself and the King for a slave ship, d’Artagnan had been having some… _disturbing_ thoughts concerning the King. He found himself thinking about what a good man the King was, drifting off into daydreams when he saw the King whilst on guard duty. It was a miracle that no one had noticed how he sought the King out with his eyes every time he was in the same room.

~

D’Artagnan was certain that no one knew that raced through his mind when he lay down to sleep. The King kissing him, enjoying it, moving towards _more_. He would be executed for the unlawful and unholy thoughts if anyone found out. It made sense that all his desires, both simple and more complex, would come out at night, seeing as he spent the daytime hours supressing the thoughts, less they distract him from his duty.

He got up and padded to the window, pushing the shutters outwards, letting the Paris night in. The air was cool on his heated cheeks as he looked up at the stars.

With his hands in the praying position against his bare chest, d’Artagnan whispered fervently, _“Let me have the strength to conceal my feelings. Please.”_

~

Breakfast didn’t have the same appeal that it used to. D’Artagnan pushed the food around his bowl, one hand under his chin, his elbow on the table. He was thinking about how he would be seeing the King soon, even if all he was doing was guard duty. The thought made a small, secretive smile bloom on his face. It felt like all he needed to survive was to watch the King from a distance. (Though he longed to have the kind of closeness that tormented his nights.)

“Thinking about Madam Bonacieux again d’Artagnan?”

It took several seconds to register that Aramis was talking to him.

“I – no – what?” He stuttered, blushing despite himself. Constance was a lovely woman, but not who he desired.

Porthos and Aramis shared a look which clearly said that they didn’t believe him. Athos simply shook his head at their antics, continuing to eat his breakfast.

D’Artagnan thought that it was better for them to think that he had a thing for a married woman, instead of the King of France.

~

He had one small wish.

For the King to know about his feelings. Not to return them. Just to know about them, to know that someone loved him above what was deemed _respectable_ between a leader and his subject. He could do something anonymously, to make the confession – because that’s what it was going to be – untraceable.

He knew his friends would try to discourage him if he even thought about doing something to _(for)_ the King. So he didn’t mention it, even after the lengthy letter was completed and was concealed in his pocket beneath his doublet, waiting for the sudden burst of courage that would lead him to give it to a messenger in the Palace with orders and a coin to deliver it directly to the King himself.

D’Artagnan waited several days for the right moment, the letter on him at all times, migrating under his pillow while he slept. He was unwilling to let anyone see it.

Eventually, while on guard duty, after witnessing a particularly ugly fight between the King and the Cardinal, d’Artagnan gave in. He simply wanted to put a smile on the King’s face, even if he wasn’t there to see it. It would be enough to know that he’d soothed the King’s worries for a little while.

~

Louis looked at the servant who had handed him the letter in confusion. Who had sent him such a heartfelt letter?

“Who sent this to me?” He asked, frowning.

The servant shrugged, “One of Your Majesty’s Musketeers.”

“Which one?”

“The new one.” The servant said.

 _D’Artagnan_. The one who’d so gallantly kept him from all harm during the terrifying capture by slavers.

Louis dismissed the servant with a hand wave, barely paying attention as the door shut behind the servant, and sunk into the nearest chair. He had a lot to think about.

~

It never occurred to d’Artagnan that the servant he’d paid to deliver the letter would tell the King who’d sent the letter. He should’ve paid the lad more money to keep his mouth shut because he was now expected at the Palace at the request of the King.

He gave no response to the calls of his friends as he left the garrison, his shoulders slumped. He was aware that they would undoubtedly want an answer as to where he was going and distractedly prayed that Treville would not tell them. It was bad enough that the King knew who had given him that letter, without his friends knowing as well.

(Clearly his fervent whisper to the stars a couple of weeks ago had had no effect.)

~

Louis automatically straightened up when the door to the less formal part of his chambers opened. D’Artagnan entered, glancing around the room. The Musketeer had clearly never been to his chambers before, and indeed, he could not remember having the other man in here.

He cleared his throat and watched as d’Artagnan looked sharply his way, a blush forming on the younger man’s cheeks.

“I – I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” D’Artagnan stuttered, “I didn’t mean to g-get distracted.”

“D’Artagnan relax.” He said, wanting the Musketeer to be calmer before he told him how he felt.

D’Artagnan’s chest rose and fell as he took in a deep breathe.

Louis gestured for the other man to sit, which he did cautiously, looking up at the King and waiting for an explanation.

“I received your letter and a very nice letter it was too, if you look past the unlawful feelings expressed.” Louis began, pausing briefly to see all the colour drain out of d’Artagnan’s face as he dropped his gaze to the floor. He decided to let that go by seemingly unnoticed for now because this was a difficult conversation to be having. “However, I do not return your feelings, as I am devoted to the Queen. But it is nice to know there are other people, asides from her, who see past the Kingly exterior.”

The Musketeer’s voice was subdued when he asked, “May – may I be excused from your presence Your Majesty?”

“You may.” Louis replied, observing the hasty bow and subsequent exit of his chambers.

He supposed that the conversation went as well as it could have, given the topic.

~

D’Artagnan forced the tears back until he got back to his small room in the garrison. He was grateful for the locking door as he heard his friends banging on it, loudly demanding that he let them in and wanting to know where he went. He leant back against the wall behind his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t tell anyone about his – _unlawful_ _feelings_ , the King’s voice echoed in his head – towards the King. He _couldn’t_.

He didn’t have the strength to hear how his feelings were blasphemous, not so soon after hearing confirmation that the King – _Louis_ – didn’t feel the same way he did. Of course, he’d always know that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It felt like his heart was breaking, even worse than when his father had died.

He sobbed into his knees, lacking the strength to hold himself up anymore. He’d known that this love affair was one sided and would always be doomed. That hadn’t stopped him.

~

After two days, D’Artagnan left his room and went down to the courtyard, near the day’s end. He was met at the bottom of the stairs by his friends, wearing concerned looks. He tried and failed to smile at them.

“D’Artagnan?” A gentle voice said.

He blinked slowly, trying his very best not to start sobbing again, “Yes Athos?”

“Where did you go two days ago?”

“It – I was…” He couldn’t finished the sentence and to his horror, he could feel more tears gathering in his eyes. Pushing past Aramis and Porthos, he fled to the stables, where he gulped against tears as he leant against his horse. His tears soaked into his horse’s hair.

A large, warm hand was placed on his shoulder. Porthos.

“What’s wrong?”

The urge for comfort from his dearest friends after two days suffering by himself won out over his need for privacy and d’Artagnan found himself whirling around and burying his face in Porthos’s shoulder. The man in question startled, but soon began to rub his back. D’Artagnan felt two other hands join in, one settling on his shoulder and the other lightly gripping his side. Athos and Aramis. Their unquestioning kindness caused another wave of ugly tears to rack his body. His friends supported him through each wave of tears until he ran out. He pulled away, missing the warm weight of their hands as soon as they separated, and scrubbed at his face, which he knew must be a mess, having not washed for three days.

“Is this about Constance?” Aramis asked, titling his head to one side.

D’Artagnan laughed wetly and then smiled sadly, replying, “If it was, it would be so much easier.”

“Then what is the matter?”

“I – I was – am – in love with… No.” D’Artagnan couldn’t say it.

“Go on pup.” Porthos encouraged gently with a smile.

He looked down at the straw, taking note of how his horse’s hooves needed cleaning, and mumbled, “Louis, that is, The King.”

It was deadly quiet between the friends for several long moments before Athos said, “Ah. So we weren’t far off then.”

“I – no. You weren’t.”

D’Artagnan risked a glance upwards and saw the compassion in his friend’s faces, which almost had him crying all over again. They didn’t seem to care that he’d had feelings for another man, the King of France at that.

Aramis hummed in thought before suggesting, “You want to go to the tavern? I know drinking isn’t going to help in the long term, but for one night?”

“Is it that obvious that I haven’t slept?” D’Artagnan said.

“Just a bit.” Porthos replied, placing a hand on D’Artagnan’s shoulder to lead him out of the stables, “Let’s go.”

As the quartet left the garrison behind, heading for their favourite tavern, D’Artagnan reflected how lucky he’d been to find these men and become their friend. With them by his side, he felt like he could begin to heal from his one sided love.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a habit of finding the most unusual pairings in a fandom and writing fic for them. That is exactly what happened here.
> 
> Still, kudos and comments would be welcome.


End file.
